


Dear John,

by flotsam45



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha!John, Family, M/M, Mentions of War, Omega!Sherlock, Omegaverse, just the slightest, mentions of mpreg, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 10:00:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10435233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flotsam45/pseuds/flotsam45
Summary: Sherlock and John write one another while John is deployed.Revised RP from August 2014.





	

Dear John, 

 

I hope you haven't died since your last email. Because I would be devastated with the last thing I ever said to you being, 'Just get out'. I am sorry. It's been two months and I have been angry. But that's no excuse. I know you have no control over your deployment. But I honestly thought that, after the last time, they'd be able to do without you for a bit longer than five months. You barely got to spend any time with your new daughter. She, William and I all miss you. Please write back whenever you can. I can update you on the children, if you like. But if you are upset with me, I understand. I reacted poorly. Just assure me you're alright. 

 

Love, 

 

Sherlock.

* * *

 

Dear Sherlock,

I'm fine. I understand that you were upset, and this goes without saying, but you're forgiven. I miss you all as well, and I wish I could've spent more time at home. But some things just can't be helped, it seems. Things here are honestly terrible, but it could be worse. I wish I were back home with you and the children. I hope you can made do for several months. I'd offer you Harry's help, but really, she'd be no help at all. 

I love you, Sherlock. And I miss you very much. Please keep in touch, and I'd love to hear more about the children. 

 

Love, 

 

John

* * *

 

John, 

 

William has decided that he is going to be a bird when he grows up. He started the process yesterday by ripping open his pillow case and using a combination of glue and scotch tape to make sure they all stayed on his arms. Mrs. Hudson stopped him before he tried to fly off the couch. We've both tried to tell him that people don't change species when they get older, but he's convinced. If it matters, he's determined to be a chicken so that way he doesn't need to buy eggs anymore. Which, I grant him, is useful. 

 

Madeline is just like other six month olds. She's still hungry all the time, though. But she's sleeping through the night, most of the time. And she's got your eyes. So I can never be cross with her for long. 

 

As for me, I have joined that bloody Army Omegas group you insisted on. Circle of weepy-eyed spouses wearing their mate's jumpers and talking about how much it hurts to be parted. It's pathetic. But at least I have entertainment. And, if you could send an article of clothing, I would be obliged. The separation has started me feeling off earlier than normal. I've had a sour stomach nearly all week and with two little ones, I can't afford it. 

 

I miss you every day. Stay safe and come home soon. 

 

Yours, 

 

Sherlock

* * *

 

Sherlock,

 

I had a good laugh imagining our boy a feathery mess, and determined to be a chicken. It's probably the most I've laughed in a long time, to be honest. 

I'm glad you joined the Omega group, if only for you to find it entertaining, as you so put it. As you asked, I've enclosed my jacket. I hope you can make use of it. 

Sorry for the shortness of this, but I'm a bit pressed for time.

 

-John

* * *

 

John,

 

The jacket doesn't seem to help very much. But it is nice to have something of yours. 

I couldn't help but notice the stain you tried to get out of the sleeve. I do hope that blood was someone else's and not yours. Please say it wasn't yours. 

To make you laugh, I enclosed a picture of William the Chicken. Mrs. Hudson made him a new pyjama so he can get accustomed to everything. He refuses to take it off, most mornings. 

 

Please. Be safe. 

 

Sherlock

* * *

 

Sherlock, 

 

Upon opening your letter, everyone in my tent took the time to enjoy the picture of William the Chicken. Everyone says he's adorable, and I can't help but agree. Especially when he looks so much like a little you.

I'm sorry to hear that the jacket didn't help much. And I assure you that the blood was in fact someone else's. 

I didn't want to say anything because I knew you'd worry, but as of now, things here are getting pretty bad, and I don't know when I'll be able to write you next. But please keep writing. It keeps my spirits up. 

 

-John

* * *

 

John,

 

I worry regardless. Write whenever you can. I always wait for your letter with every post. William has taken your coat now. I told him that chickens don't need coats, so now he is starting to doubt his plans. For a three year old, he's remarkably intelligent about things. When I pass out on the couch, he drapes your coat over me for all it will help. The groups says I should feel better soon. But I don't know that I trust them. Me and another omega female are the only two out of all twenty not pregnant. Apparently it's a tradition when one's mate returns to have a child as soon as possible. I don't know how we missed the memo. 

 

Tell me about what's going on, please. What's in my mind is worse. I need to know so I can judge how much I need to worry. 

 

I love you. 

 

Sherlock

* * *

 

Sherlock,

 

I'm afraid our casualties outnumber those of us remaining. We're supposed to get another unit of soldiers soon, but who in their right mind sends more men to a battle that's clearly a lost cause? It'll only cause more death. 

Despite the odds, we're faring relatively well. 

 

-John

 

P.S. Sorry for the bloodstains on the paper. Not mine. Just finished carrying a mate of mine to the med tent.

* * *

 

John, 

 

You need to take care of yourself. Please. We need you, here. Don't be a hero. Don't do anything to put yourself in harm's way. 

I have news. But I am not going to tell you, this way. You're going to come home and I am going to tell you in person. 

Please, come home. 

 

I love you. William asks about you every day. 

 

Sherlock

* * *

 

Sherlock,

 

I love you. I'll do my best. 

 

-John

* * *

 

John,

 

Your best isn't good enough. You need to promise me. I can't do this without you.

 

Sherlock

* * *

 

Sherlock,

 

It'll be alright. I promise you. 

 

-John

* * *

 

John,

 

Good. Good. How long till you're home?

 

Sherlock

* * *

 

Sherlock, 

 

Maybe three months. But can't guarantee it.

 

-John

* * *

John,

 

Three months. I can survive that. 

My news is good, by the way. If you needed something to look forward to. 

I think it's good. 

 

Three months. Just hide under something till then, alright?

 

Sherlock

* * *

 

To Mr. William Sherlock Scott Holmes:

 

I regret to inform you that Captain John Hamish Watson has been wounded in action with our armed forces on July sixteenth. He has been hospitalized, and once his condition stabilizes, he will be flown home. 

He has done his country a great service. Reports of his condition will be mailed to you.

 

Ulio, Adj. General.

* * *

 

Sherlock didn't even have to read the letter. He knew what was inside it. John was hurt or dead. Or close to dead. Nothing else came in envelopes like that. Mrs. Hudson had to take care of the children while he curled up in bed, wanting to die. Wanting to know more and less at the very same time. John. His John. He couldn't be gone. There was too much he had to live for. He had promised. Sherlock rested his hand on his stomach, gently reassuring the life inside of him that his father was going to come home. He had to. He just /had/ to. 

 

* * *

'Ulio, 

 

If he dies, you have no idea what sort of monster you will create. 

 

Sherlock

* * *

 

Dear Sherlock,

 

I hope I didn’t make you worry too much about me. I’m alright. Since my condition’s ‘stabilized’, the doctors are letting me write my own report to send to you. I just wanted to reassure you that I’m okay. 

I may not have listened to you when you said to not be a hero and put myself in harm’s way, but that’s kind of my job. I’ve managed to burn parts of my chest and abdomen, and dislocated my shoulder. Regardless, I’ll be flying back home to you in one piece. 

I miss you very much. I’m sorry to have worried you. I’ll see you soon. 

 

Much love,

 

John

* * *

 

 

It took a few weeks, and the hospital sent automated messages to Sherlock, letting him know that John would be transferred to Saint Bartholomew's Hospital on August 1st. As excited as John was to see Sherlock, he was a bit afraid of Sherlock's reaction. He knew Sherlock was going to be upset. How could he not be, when John hadn't listened to him and gotten himself injured. 

John arrived at Bart's, and did his best to be a good patient, but he couldn't help but be anxious to see Sherlock.

 

Sherlock came alone, when he did show up. He needed to show up. Needed to see John more than he had needed anything in his life. But part of him wanted to just ignore him forever and pretend that William, Madeline, and their new children were immaculately conceived. Pushing into the hospital room, Sherlock's face was blank. He was barely three months on, at this point. And even with twins, it wasn't enough to have him showing that John would know the minute he walked in. Breath hitching when he saw John, Sherlock reigned in his need to throw himself on the bed and instead walked over. "Tell me what happened," he said, levelly, not making eye contact. "And know that I will know if you lie."

 

John cringed. Jesus, Sherlock was angry. He hadn't even bothered yelling. He sighed softly, and readjusted himself, sitting up straighter with a suppressed grimace. "I, um…" He cleared his throat. "We were going in for an attack on a nearby enemy. An attempt to lessen the enemy so when our backup unit showed up, we'd have a better chance of surprising them with our renewed force. But they were waiting for us. As soon as we showed up, they came at us, all their weapons at the ready. We hadn't even gotten into formation yet." He paused. "You can probably tell by now that we were all just desperate. We weren't prepared. It wasn't thought through." He hesitated. "Anyway, their camp was at the edge of a town. The last thing we wanted to do was get civilians involved, but with everything going on, it was kind of inevitable. As soon as they started shooting at us, people in town were going insane. Half of us went to try and keep them safe. The rest stayed and fought. I was on the civilian protection unit. There was a…um…. an omega. Young. 20, at the oldest. Someone misfired something and it flew right at him. He was pregnant, and he looked terrified. I had to get him out of the way…" John trailed off.

 

Sherlock's expression didn't soften. "You threw yourself at a pregnant omega to save him," he repeated, wanting to make sure he had this right. "You went through with a plan that was ill-conceived and desperate and then, when it predictably fell apart, you sacrificed yourself for some /stranger/ when you had an omega of your own that you /promised/ you were going to come home to. You could have /died/," he shouted, now the anger blossoming to the surface. Eyes brimming with tears fueled by the hormones in his body. "You could have died, John. Left me alone to tell William that his father was gone forever. Raising Madeline by myself and looking into your eyes every time I saw her. You can't /do/ that! Who are /you/ to make the decisions of what is an acceptable risk?" He was almost sobbing, out of his chair and letting all of his fear and his anger just boil over. "I got a letter saying you were in some strange hospital, not even stable. Because of a pregnant omega. You...you..." He couldn't speak anymore, overcome.

 

John looked down at his hands, a pained expression on his face. Well, when Sherlock said it like /that/.… He sighed. "He looked like you." he mumbled. "In that moment, all I could see was you standing there absolutely terrified, and I acted without thinking." he said slowly, shuddering slightly at the memory of it. He swallowed past the lump in his throat. "I'm sorry, Sherlock. I am."

 

The anger wasn't sustainable. Because, underneath it, Sherlock was thrilled to have John here, once more. So with a broken sound, he crumpled forward, pressing his face into the crook of John's neck and just breathed. "I thought I had lost you. And there was still so much I had left to say. I thought it was all over." His hands gripped John's gown tight, almost ripping it. "You can't do this again. You can't. /I/ can't."

 

John wrapped both arms around Sherlock, despite his left one being a bit stiff. "I swear to you, that I'm never going to put you through that ever again, Sherlock." he said. He ran his hand up and down Sherlock's back, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "But it's alright now. I'm here. We're okay." he assured Sherlock. "We're okay."

 

Sherlock laughed a sob into John's neck before pulling back. "Actually. We're better than okay," he said, almost sheepishly. Biting his lip, he sat on the edge of the bed and looked at John fondly. "I don't know if you recall, but I wrote to you that I had news, yes?" Reaching out, he took John's hand in his own and held it gently.

 

John thought for a moment, and nodded. He looked inquisitively at Sherlock, waiting for the big reveal. He had a feeling of what it was. There was only one thing he could think of, and he was rather sure it was what Sherlock was about to tell him.

 

Sherlock laughed, seeing John more or less figure it out just by the look on his face. Well, some of it. "Yes. Yes, I left my high-ground as one of the un-impregnated members of the Army Omega's group," he confirmed with a smirk. Letting go of John's hand, he lifted his shirt out from his pants and hoisted it up to show the small bump of his midsection. "You got me right before you left, it seems. And they are excited to meet you."

 

John chuckled, before he reached out, a look of near entrancement on his face, before hesitating and looking up at Sherlock. "What do you mean...'They'?" he asked slowly, a smile spreading across his lips.

 

Sherlock's smile was radiant. "They. As in, both of them," he confirmed warmly, taking John's hand and pressing it to his stomach. "We have two little children on the way, John. And I do hope you're going to be able to be here for the pregnancy, this time?"

 

"God, Sherlock." John murmured, and leaned forward and pulled Sherlock close, kissing him firmly. The feel of Sherlock's lips on his reminded him that he was truly home, and when he pulled back, he had the widest smile on his face. He couldn't help it. "I most certainly will be. In fact, I have some news of my own." he said. "I've decided that it's time for me to leave the military. Especially after this. I mean, they probably are going to dismiss me anyway, but I thought it over." John said quietly. "I have a family I need to take care of, after all." He chuckled. "A growing one at that."

 

Sherlock's eyes opened, wide and stunned before a small noise came out of his throat and he was essentially climbing onto the bed to hold John against him. "Oh, John," he gasped, kissing him hard and trying to be mindful of his burns, but almost too overwhelmed to remember. "You mean it? It's over? No more...no more leaves? No more circles of weepy omegas trying to cheer each other up and failing /miserably/?"

 

"I mean it." John said. "It's over. No more leaves, no more weepy omegas, no more worrying over me, no more sending you my clothes… This time… Seeing you like this… has made me more sure than ever. I can't afford to not be here for my family." he murmured between the kisses he was showering Sherlock with.

 

Sherlock settled in the narrow space on the bed, holding John close. "Thank God," he mumbled, too relieved for words other than that. "I honestly can't believe it. William is going to be thrilled. He's coming, soon, actually. I thought you'd want to see them as soon as possible. And Madeline. She's got your blonde hair. All curls. She's so beautiful. You're not going to recognize her, now. From the little baby you left? She's amazing."

 

John hummed. "Can't wait." he said quietly, burying his face in Sherlock's shoulder. He breathed in the familiar scent of his omega, whom he'd been away from for far too long. He closed his eyes, feeling them water. He sniffled, and tried to hold back the tears, but they overflowed, dampening Sherlock's shirt.

 

Sherlock pulled back, stroking a finger under the wet eye. "John," he mumbled, awed at such a show of emotion. "What's the matter?" Gently, he pressed a kiss to his forehead. His cheek. Whatever he could reach. "Are you in pain? Am I hurting you, here?"

 

John laughed quietly, and shook his head. "'M just relieved. To be home. To be with you." He swallowed thickly. "When I….In the hospital, when I wasn't sure if I'd be able to come home to you…. I was afraid. I knew I'd promised you that everything'd be alright, but… if I couldn't keep my promise… If I couldn't see you again…." John bit his lip and shook his head. "I'm just… relieved." he breathed, trembling slightly.

 

Sherlock smiled, kissing John slowly. "I am, as well. I thought for awhile that I would never be able to see you again. And I swear, I would have brought you back and killed you again, if you did that." Sherlock laughed and kissed John for exactly three seconds before a small, dark-haired child screamed, "Daddy!" And launched himself onto the bed with as much force as he could.

 

John winced, a small "Oof." escaping his lips as William landed, but he didn't mind the slight pain. "Well now, who is this young man?" he asked in mock shock.

 

Sherlock pulled William off, just a little, trying to minimize John's pain. "It's me! Will! You remember me," William laughed, snuggling back in, closer. Mrs. Hudson appeared a few seconds later with an arm full of Madeline. Grinning, Sherlock took the little girl from her and brought her to John's side. William smiled big. "Maddie is bigger than last time," he said primly, like he was teaching John this important information. "She still doesn't talk."

 

John laughed, an arm around William. "Ah, you got me." he said, running his fingers through his son's hair. He looked up when Mrs. Hudson came in, and he offered her a smile. He watched as Madeline was brought over to him. "She most certainly is bigger." he breathed, "Oh, Madeline…"

 

Sherlock moved back to the bed, holding John's daughter close to him. "She started growing these curls one day," he explained fondly. "Otherwise, she looks so much like you, doesn't she?" William snuggled into his father and let himself be petted, just enjoying the closeness. "Don't be upset if she cries a little. She's had a terrible time with strangers, lately. And..." Sherlock paused, looking guilty. "I don't know how much she remembers you."

 

John smiled regretfully. "Ah, well, no helping that." he said with a sigh. "I haven't exactly been around much." He looked at Madeline wistfully. "Could I try, though?" he asked hopefully, wanting to hold his daughter.

 

Sherlock nodded, shifting Madeline over to John. She gurgled, shoving her fist into her mouth but otherwise didn't seem to be bothered. Looking up at John, she blinked her blue eyes and gurgled again, smiling toothlessly and reaching out towards his face.

 

John could have cried. "Hello, Madeline." he whispered, his voice wavering. He pressed a kiss to her forehead. He looked down at her, unable to find the words to say.

 

Sherlock pulled William off the bed, letting John have a moment. "Did you tell him about the other two, yet," William asked loudly, ruining the moment as only a three year old could. Sherlock laughed. "Yes. Yes, thank you Will. But if I hadn't, good to know I can count on you." Madeline gurgled again, grabbing John's nose in an iron grip when he kissed her and then laughing as she held it.

 

John laughed along. He laughed at his child's outspokenness, he laughed at his daughter's laughing face, he laughed at the weight that had been lifted from his shoulders upon seeing his family. Knowing he wouldn't have to leave them again. Smiling, he ignored the discomfort of Madeline's grasp on his nose and laughed some more. After managing to pry her hands off of him, he beamed at Sherlock.

 

Sherlock smiled back, leaning over to kiss John softly. And then he turned to William. "You know, your Daddy has something important he wants to tell you, too," he told their son, looking over at John. William almost bounced over, trying to crawl back onto the bed and not quite able to. "What? What is it?" he asked as he bounced.

 

John chuckled, and handed Madeline back to Sherlock, before reaching over and picking up William and bringing him onto the bed. He cleared his throat dramatically. "I'm home for good." he said. "Meaning I won't be leaving to go off for months at a time."

 

William's face scrunched up, confused. "You're staying?" he finally managed to understand. And then the smile came. "You're staying?! Really?" He bounced on his knees, almost leaping on John before Sherlock reminded him of the burns. "So you're going to be home when I am home? And watch movies? And take me to the park?"

 

John nodded. "Mhmm. We'll be doing a lot of things together now." he said, his own smile mirroring William's. "What do you think?"

 

William ignored Sherlock and launched himself at John, holding him tight. "I miss you when you're gone. I like you staying. Especially if it involves the park." Sherlock laughed, holding Madeline up letting her smile join the group of them.

  
John held him close, patting him. "I miss you when I'm gone too. But we don't have to worry about that anymore." he said, smiling up at Sherlock. "We'll be able to go to the park lots now."


End file.
